Creepy - Day 2 - Just a Scratch
Episode Date: October 2, 2020I'll be okay...***Written by fourtccnwrites***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKc...Utw***Music by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.
Transcript
Discussion (0)
This is the bloody disgusting podcast network.
This podcast and the 31 Days of Horrors made possible thanks to our patrons.
So please join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons.
UJ. Shahada, Kevin Hamilton, Kisses to the Mrs. Nicholas Freeman,
Bradley Furmeister, Golden Child Dorothy, Jonathan Lopez, Vincent Stefano, Taya Tuskeuk,
and Faither Baker.
Our patrons mean everything to us.
and we do all we can to give back for their generosity.
As I've been saying for the last month,
our patron levels have officially changed
to reflect the amount of content
that's immediately available for new patrons.
However, and it's probably because of Minnesotaan guilt or something,
I'd like to smooth the transition
and give something back to new patrons
who might have missed the cut-off before prices went up.
So, for all of October 2020,
all new patrons who sign up at the new levels
will get a limited edition 31 days of horror magnet,
along with your other rewards.
Rewards like shoutouts,
exclusive bonus episodes,
immediate access to almost 500 bonus episodes,
coffee cups, t-shirts, and logo hoodies.
Signing up annually is still an option,
and also comes with a magnet.
And if you sign up annually,
I'll still give you a month off for free,
12 months for the cost of 11.
Like I say every week,
we do all we can to give back
to the people who support our show.
If you'd like to see how you can support the podcast
and get rewarded for doing so,
including the limited edition creepy fridge magnet,
please check out our reward to use at patreon.com slash creepypot.
Now,
This is creepy.
A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous,
chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world.
Whether these stories truly happened,
or are simply fabrications is for you to decide.
These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language.
Listener discretion is advised.
Creepy Presents
The 31 Days of Horror.
Day 2.
Just a Scratch
Written by 4 DCCN writes.
It all started the spring I scraped my knee.
Mama frowned and told me to be more careful.
Dad sat on the floor and took my face in his hands,
wiping my tears away with his huge thumbs,
telling me it was going to be okay.
It was just the scratch.
I wasn't supposed to be out that day.
Mama was really upset about that.
I promised I'd never do it again
as Dad wrapped my knee with that long band-aid thing
and told me to never take it off.
Dad was your mama called Sarah and told her to come home from college, but Sarah never showed up.
Mama slept all day, and Dad looked tired all the time, but smiled for me.
The Band-Aid kept itching, but I didn't take it off once because I promised.
It got yellow and all gross, but I didn't take it off.
Dad would hold my hand so tight it would hurt when we left the house.
Mama never left
My leg hurt when we walked though
And I could barely breathe through the heavy mask he had me wear
So he had to stop taking me with him
We moved my bedroom downstairs
Dad called at a big boy update
He said that since I was getting older
I would need a bigger room
He made a big show of it
Put up all my posters for me
move my dresser and my bed.
He would say,
See?
There's more space for your toy boxes.
Or,
more room for your dresser.
But I knew he did it because I couldn't get up and downstairs anymore.
Around the edges of the giant band-aid,
my leg was turning blue and gray.
But I never took it off.
We lost contact with Nan that year.
And every time I was turning blue and gray.
I asked about her.
Dad would get this sad look in his eyes that I didn't get.
He would say that the phone lines were dead, so they couldn't reach her.
I didn't know what that meant very well.
Summerhead and Sarah didn't come home.
Where is she?
I'd ask.
School's out.
She promised you'd play with me when she got home.
Dad frowned.
She's sick, buddy.
She can't come home right now.
Did she scrape her knee too?
Dad closed his eyes, took a deep breath, shook his head.
No, bud.
She cut her cheek.
That was the year that I looked out the window, and I saw Mrs. Johnson limp down the road.
She had a cat scratch on her hand, and her whole arm up to her head was blue and gray.
She looked really hurt.
Dad poured it up the windows.
Mama didn't really come down to eat,
but I would see Dad bring up plates for her.
I really missed her that year.
The blue and gray started forming up my leg,
and I soon couldn't move forward.
I'd never seen Dad cry like that before.
I felt so bad.
I wish I didn't hurt him like that,
even though I didn't know what I did.
He came home one day with an axe and a bunch more of the long band-aids, way cleaner than the one still wrapped around my knee.
He looked at me and he cried and cried.
And he told me he was sorry and that this was going to hurt a lot.
But he loved me so much and would do anything for me.
That was the year I lost my leg.
And I started feeling much better.
Dad brought home a wheelchair and let me sit in the backyard again under his supervision.
I never saw anyone outside our fence.
I kept wondering where everyone went.
Jack wasn't out splashing in his pool in the hot summer or climbing over the jungle gym with his little sister.
Avery didn't run through the grass with a big black dog anymore.
I wondered how long they've been gone.
or if I missed the goodbye party.
Sometimes,
Mama would come down and sit on the porch with me.
Dad said it was good for her to move around every once in a while.
She never said anything.
Just sat there.
One day she fell down the stairs and cracked her head.
I screamed.
Dad screamed.
There was blood running down her face everywhere,
and I was so scared that I was sobbing.
Mama didn't say anything, but I think she was scared too.
Dad covered it right away and he didn't let Mom outside again.
Her face got all blue and gray like my leg.
That was the year I last saw Mama.
I didn't ask Dad what happened.
I think I knew.
The last time I saw her, she looked so dead.
I don't know if she recognized me.
Dad and I felt like the only two people in the universe.
The TV just turned down to static now.
The radio was the same.
The internet didn't connect.
And the DS picked the chats only had empty rooms.
We were alone.
I missed going to school and going on walks and recess.
I missed Mario Kart running through the forest and made up murder mysteries.
I missed Mama.
and Sarah. That was the year I asked. What happened to them, Dad? And he didn't seem like my dad
anymore. He tried to be, I know. He put on a face and smiled and tried to be my dad. I didn't
know if it comforted him or if it was to comfort me. That was the year I turned eight. And
dad couldn't bake me a cake, so he got me a can of peaches.
It was winter by then, and the house got really cold.
So dad gave me all the blankets, but I made him sleep in my bed so we could share.
He still got sickly, though, and he got more tired every day.
He walked through the house like a zombie, but he was still pretending to be my dad.
He still gave me a bigger plate of beans, and he covered me with all the blankets when I shivered.
and then one day
Dad came home from the store
and he had a cut on his hand
where he slipped on the ice
he looked so tired and so pale
he looked like a ghost
like a person that was no longer there
the cut got blue and gray around the long band-aid
that was the year that dad looked up at me with tears in his eyes
that was the year he told me
I'm so sorry Daniel
I tried so hard.
I love you so much and I really hope you know that.
I will always love you.
That was the year that I was eight and I was so lonely and all I had was my dad.
That was the year my dad gave up on himself.
But I didn't give up on him.
I would never give up on him.
I can do it, Dad.
I can do it.
Please, let me do it.
I can.
I had cried.
I was eight.
I was young.
I called gau's long band-aids and cried when I scraped my knee.
And I would do anything from my dad.
That was the year Dad lost his hand, and I cried for so long.
I cried until Dad sat on the floor and took my face in his hands, wiping my tears away with his huge thumb.
telling me that it was gonna be okay.
It was just a scratch.
It all started this spring.
I scraped my knee.
That was the year Mama died,
and Sarah never came home.
That was the year Mrs. Johnson roamed the streets.
And Jack wasn't out splashing in the pool.
And Avery didn't run through the grass with her big black dog anymore.
That was the year that everyone disappeared.
everyone except my dad
who never left
for more information
including pictures and videos
of the stories told on this podcast
or to suggest stories for
future episodes
please visit us
at creepy pod on Twitter
Instagram
and Facebook
or email us
at creepy pod
at Gmail all stories told
this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikiya.com and are protected by a creative
commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.
